, with a resonant smack upon every syllable, "a
rather curious definition of intelligence by that pleasing old anarchist
Fenelon..."

"Just listen to this!" Mme. Verdurin rallied Forcheville and the Doctor.
"He's going to give us Fenelon's definition of intelligence. That's
interesting. It's not often you get a chance of hearing that!"

But Brichot was keeping Fenelon's definition until Swann should
have given his own. Swann remained silent, and, by this fresh act of
recreancy, spoiled the brilliant tournament of dialectic which Mme.
Verdurin was rejoicing at being able to offer to Forcheville.

"You see, it's just the same as with me!" Odette was peevish. "I'm not
at all sorry to see that I'm not the only one he doesn't find quite up
to his level."

"These de La Tremouailles whom Mme. Verdurin has exhibited to us as so
little to be desired," inquired Brichot, articulating vigorously, "are
they, by any chance, descended from the couple whom that worthy old
snob, Sevigne, said she was delighted to know, because it was so good
for her peasants? True, the Marquise had another reason, which in her
case probably came first, for she was a thorough journalist at heart,
and always on the look-out for 'copy.' And, in the journal which she
used to send regularly to her daughter, it was Mme. de La Tremouaille,
kept well-informed through all her grand connections, who supplied the
foreign politics."

"Oh dear, no. I'm quite sure they aren't the same family," said Mme.
Verdurin desperately.

Saniette who, ever since he had surrendered his untouched plate to the
butler, had been plunged once more in silent meditation, emerged finally
to tell them, with a nervous laugh, a story of how he had once dined
with the Duc de La Tremoille, the point of which was that the Duke
did not know that George Sand was the pseudonym of a woman. Swann,
who really liked Saniette, felt bound to supply him with a few facts
illustrative of the Duke's culture, which would prove that such
ignorance on his part was literally impossible; but suddenly he stopped
short; he had realised, as he was speaking, that Saniette needed no
proof, but knew already that the story was untrue for the simple reason
that he had at that moment invented it. The worthy man suffered acutely
from the Verdurins' always finding him so dull; and as he was conscious
of having been more than ordinarily morose this evening, he had made up
his mind that he would succeed in being amus